Kiss Me, I'm Irish
by snarkysweetness
Summary: Killian discovers St. Patrick's Day.


**Title: **Kiss Me, I'm Irish  
**Author:** snarkysweetness  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Characters:** Killian, Jefferson, Victor, & Aurora; Aurora/Killian  
**Summary:** Killian discovers St. Patrick's Day.  
**Warnings:** Sexy times and Madfrankenhook shenanigans.  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.  
**Author's Notes: **Happy St. Patrick's Day lovelies.

"What in the blasted hell is this sodding green stuff, Jefferson?"

This world held unusual things, from the slimy, wiggly, colored swivel they'd fed him in the hospital, to the bizarre enchanted picture boxes, and 'rubbers' that lit up in the dark, though, he supposed, if his girl was going to insist he use the damn things, at least they could have some fun with it. Killian had been introduced to his fair share of new and strange things since coming to this land but this was a bit odd, even for him. He glanced up from the clear decanter filled with emerald liquid and gave his old portal jumping friend a quizzical stare.

"It's ale."

"But it's green."

Victor clapped him on the back as he took a seat on the stool next to him and eagerly reached for his own drink.

"That's just green dye, old friend, it still tastes the same."

Killian eyed them both warily; sure this was trick, some ploy by the scaly bastard to poison him. Surely his friends had been corrupted, their minds controlled by the bastard sorcerer. He tapped his hook on his leg, ready to strike if necessary, and watched as both men took long drinks of the lime concoction.

"Are you going to scowl all night or have a drink? I have a bar to run, you know, and its St. Patrick's Day weekend, there will lots of people filling this place up tonight, so drink while you can, once I have customers, no more free drinks." Jefferson offered.

Still wary, he lifted his own glass and sniffed. Well, it did smell like ale, and the other two weren't dead yet.

"What in blasted hell is St. Patrick's Day?"

Both men sighed.

"It's an Irish, holiday, man." Victor explained.

"I'm Irish."

"Then drink!" They said together.

Deciding that this could possibly not be an attempt to kill him and in fact another bizarre custom of this land, he took a hesitant sip. Finding the drink to be familiar tasting and not detecting poison, he took another drink. He waited a long moment before deciding it wasn't bad.

"It's ale."

His friends rolled their eyes and Jefferson abandoned him to finish setting up for the party.

"Wait, are you saying the town is going to gather here to have a large party and get drunk? I'm in," Killian declared as he threw an arm around Victor. "The three of us, together again, aye boys! Let's celebrate!"

And celebrate they did, Killian more than the others. Jefferson was busy running the bar, but he joined them every so often to partake in a few rounds. Victor abandoned him after seven rounds, mumbling something about some bird he planned to ravish as he stumbled out of the bar, leaving Killian to mingle with the town's desperate single women as he continued to drink himself into oblivion.

"Now, ladies, I'm a taken man and I do not-" He began, as he did his best to leave the group of women, one of which was getting quite handsy with him. He didn't mind flirting, but his girl would have his balls on a platter if he ran around on her. She looked to be a dainty and delicate flower but in reality she was a sharp and deadly thorn, one he did not wish to anger.

"Come on mate, let's get you home."

"Hmm, yes, Jefferson, home, there's a lovely lady there waiting for my rather large mast to sail her out to sea."

Jefferson rolled his eyes.

"You're an idiot."

"Indeed I am!" Killian agreed, too drunk to process anything at the moment. Jefferson offered to call him a 'taxi cab' but Killian hated those blasted carriages that were prevalent in this land and assured Jefferson he could walk home. After all, his flat was only a few blocks away and he was sure that damn Swan girl had better things to do on a Saturday night than to hand out citations for drunkards, things like his wooden friend, for example.

After stumbling his way home, he noisily made his way up the stairs until he reached their flat and banged on the door, having forgotten his keys.

"My love! Let me in to pillage you, darling! Papa's horny, eh?" He leaned against the door and chuckled to himself as he imagined how amazing she would feel wrapped around his cock. "I'm going to make you scream in ways-"

Killian fell backwards into the loft and fell hard on his arse.

"Now, now love-"

"Killian Jones, how dare you come home at this hour, smelling of the entire tavern's supply, and screaming about our sex life for the neighbors to hear? I am not one of your wenches that you visit on the shores, I am your _wife_," she hissed, "and I command your respect you wretched pira-oh!"

He tugged her arm and pulled her down to the floor and into his lap before giving her a sloppy kiss.

"I love you, princess, now let's fuck-"

"Oh good God, you're green…" She shoved away from him as he rushed to the toilet to throw up. He prided himself on his strong stomach, but that blasted dyes in those ales must have affected his constitution. Once he finished he reached for the mouthwash and collapsed against the wall as he looked at his gorgeous rose. She was a bit hazy but still beautiful.

"Did you enjoy your evening with the ladies, love? Did it leave you craving the satisfaction that only a man can give?" He asked with a lazy grin. Nothing could keep his libido down, not even a bit of vomit.

She rolled her eyes as she leaned against the doorframe.

"Oh darling, you're positively pissed off your arse. Come, let's get you into bed-"

"I thought you'd never ask."

She sighed and helped him to his feet. Killian leaned against her and placed slobbery kisses along her jawline. She pulled back the covers and coerced him into bed with promises of 'later'. She pulled the blankets over his body and kissed his forehead.

"I'll make you some tea and toast, to settle your stomach. You should have a nap to sleep it off."

"No, 'Rora, come, my Jolly Roger is ready to invade your ocea-"

He was sure that he continued on with his sexual attempts but that was the last thing he could recall. When he awoke, the sun was flittering in through the windows and Aurora lay curled up at his side with a book. As he shifted his weight, she glanced up and gave him a small smile.

"How's your head?" She asked as she marked her page and set her reading to the side.

"Pounding. Did you sleep at all, love?" His memories of the night before were cloudy but he was sure she'd taken care of him, like she did any time he overdid himself with the drinking. He would feel horrid but he'd do the same for her and he had, on many occasions, when she'd been sick. However, she had a nasty habit of forcing herself to stay awake, fearful that one morning she'd wake up to find him dead from asphyxiation on his own sick.

She stretched out like a small kitten and nodded.

"Though, someone did keep pawing at me throughout the night, mumbling something in his sleep about 'plundering my treasures'. I must say, it was rather crude."

He only half-grimaced. On the one hand, she was the woman he loved; on the other…he'd probably meant it all.

"Well, can I make it up to-what are you wearing?"

His eyes raked over her body, slowly, and by the time he reached her toes he was salivating. She was dressed in nothing than a pair of lacy green panties and a tight fitting shirt, one of the blasted ones with flimsy straps that distracted him by showing too much cleavage, not that he was complaining, she could distract him all bloody day and night if she pleased. His cock grew stiff and he swallowed hard.

"What? I am Irish."

The words 'Kiss Me, I'm Irish' were printed across the front and he smirked.

"Indeed, however, I'd like to do much more than kiss you…" he trailed off as he slipped his hand under the thin material covering her abdomen and dragged it up to expose her smooth, pale skin.

"Is that so? Well, I _may_, perhaps, be inclined to allow you to-"

He covered her lips with his own and pressed her into the mattress. As endearing as he found their verbal foreplay to be, he had no patience for it now. He'd been hard and ready for her the night before and he was overdue for a good 'plundering' session as he'd so crassly put it the night before. He trailed the back of his hook over her arm before using it to pull her strap down over her shoulder until one of her many delightful treasures became exposed to him.

With a final, lingering touch, his lips abandoned hers as he kissed his way along her neck and down her perfect breast. His lips touched every inch of the sensitive flesh, until she was left panting for more. He flicked his tongue over her erect nipple and circled it around the small bud before taking it between his teeth and suckling.

"Hmm, just as sweet as I remember."

Aurora pushed her hand into the back of his trousers and gave his arse a squeeze. She was an eager little thing. With a smirk he rid her of her shirt and buried his face against her bosom as his hand trailed between her thighs.

"Have I told you how much I adore and love you today, sweetheart?" He mumbled against her skin as his moved his mouth down her body.

"No-oh, yes!"

She gripped his bum as he stroked her through her panties.

"Perhaps you should help me out of these breeches, love."

Aurora composed herself and batted her eyelashes for a moment before following orders.

"And tell me, Mr. Jones, what do you expect to do once I have done so?" She asked haughtily as she freed his junior sailor and slowly began to stroke it.

With a sly, smug grin he brushed his stubble over her middle.

"Oh, I don't know, love, I was thinking we could recreate the night we made the tiny thing you're carrying ," he whispered as he kissed the very tiny, barely noticeable bump growing on her body.

Of course, he was almost positive their little pirate or princess had been conceived during a very heated session of angry fucking after she'd thrown him out. She'd found him down at the marina, drunk off his arse on one of the docks surrounded by some of the pirate groupies back from their land. He'd remarked it wasn't his fault wenches adored men of the sea and she'd had it with him. Of course, he'd never stray, she was his princess, but it had taken quite a bit of yelling, bruising from being pushed up against a wall, and some new clothes after he'd ripped hers off for her to forgive him.

But he'd pretend, for her sake, that their precious little produce of his seed had been made during a rousing session of passionate love-making, in order to maintain her propriety.

"Hmm, well, if you _insist_…" She gave him a sharp tug and he chuckled before pressing his lips over her belly.

"Now, you go to sleep, poppet. Daddy plans to have his way with your mother and if you come out traumatized she'll blame it on me."

Aurora swatted him.

"Killian!"

He moved up to kiss her and laughed.

"Sorry, darling, I couldn't help myself. Now, come here." He drew her against him as he pulled her damn lacy underthings to the side.

"Aren't you even going to take them off?" She complained.

"No," he replied before plunging into her. She cried out and arched her back. His little kitten wasn't hard to please normally, but pregnancy had turned her overly sensitive sex goddess who came at the drop of a hat, much like flicking on a light switch. "But I can rip it off if you'd like," he quipped as he nipped at her chin as he thrust into her again.

"Shut up you bloody pirate and have your way with me," she moaned, while clawing at his back.

"Whatever you want, your majesty," he taunted as he captured her lips with his own once more.

After his boisterous night of drinking had led to both vomiting and a mild hangover, he found he wasn't able to go as long as he liked. He sucked on her lower lip slowly before reached down to toy with her clit and help her along. Coming early was one thing but he'd be damned if he didn't get his girl there first.

It was the gentlemanly thing to do, after all.

He rolled off of her moments later, with his name still echoing off the walls. Aurora closed her eyes with a small, satisfied moan and reached for his hand.

"Already, love?" He asked in bemusement as she pulled it between her legs. She nodded before opening her big doe eyes at him and pouting. He moved onto his side and carefully used his hook to brush away loose hair from her face. "As if I'd ever say 'no' to you," he whispered as he slid two fingers into her slick folds. "Especially when it involves hearing you scream my name."

She came easily and just because he could, he didn't stop until she came one more time.

"Now, is my princess thoroughly satisfied until I'm ready to go for another round or…"

Aurora let out a loud yawn and he smiled before pulling her into his arms. She curled up on his chest with a small, content sigh.

"It's time for a nap, baby's tired," she mumbled and he shook his head. She had stayed up all night. He vowed not to drink that much again, at least, not until the little tyke was crawling. He pulled the covers over their bodies and closed his eyes, thinking a nap was just the thing he needed to cure his pounding headache, and to get him ready to spend the rest of his Sunday enjoying his Princess' body.

"Killian?" Aurora purred.

"Yes, love?"

"Happy St. Patrick's Day."

He withheld a chuckle. He still had no bloody clue how green beer and some clerical man had anything to do with being Irish, but since she insisted on partaking in every tradition their new home had to offer, he just kissed the top of her head.

"Aye, lass, and the same to you, love."


End file.
